


Losing Faith

by hammy_ham



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cancer, Depression, Loss, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-08 03:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammy_ham/pseuds/hammy_ham
Summary: Alex’s quiet sobs echoed down the hall of their apartment, keeping John awake. He felt his heart shatter, knowing th man he loved wouldn’t be there much longer.





	1. Diagnosis

The smell of bile rose throughout the apartment. Half-awake, John reached to turn on the lamp beside his bed. The light was on in the bathroom across the hall, and Jon could hear the muffled sobs coming from behind the door. 

"Alex?" He asked quietly knocking on the door. "Is everything all right in there?"

Alex opened the door from the floor. The toilet was a mix of vomit and blood, and he was clutching his stomach. John hesitated before running for a phone. Within minutes an ambulance arrived, and they took him away. John sat in the back of the ambulance, trying to hide his tears from the paramedics. _It's gonna be okay,_ he said over and over again, gripping Alex's hand. It felt like an eternity before they reached the hospital. 

They thought it was his appendix. They did scan after scan, and found almost nothing. Alex had a morphine drip running into his arm, but even John could tell that it wasn't helping. His arms had been restrained to the bed so the doctors could examine his abdomen, but his arms still twitched against the cloth holding him back. Tears fell from his eyes onto his pillow with every touch. It took all his effort not to scream in utter agony. 

Sweat pooled on his forehead as they tried to put him into a hospital gown. Every inch he moved sent a jolt of pain through his body, and he had to stifle his grunts. He could feel John's accidental tears dripping onto his arms as he helped. The drugs just didn't help like they needed to. 

He was like that the rest of the night. He became severely dehydrated, and that only made the pain worse. By morning, they had their results. 

"I'm afraid I don't quite know...how to say this..." the doctor said to John. "But it's cancer. Pancreatic cancer. I'd say late stage. I'm so sorry, sir." He rested his hand on John's shoulder before walking into the cramped room in the ICU.

Without a warning, he collapsed onto the floor. He heard a desperate cry before he was dragged back into the nurses office. His vision became blurry, and it wasn't long before he realized he was screaming. The nurses tried desperately to calm him down, but nothing seemed to work. He couldn't move, couldn't see. He wanted nothing more than to hold Alex's hand again.

He walked back into Alex's room an hour later, his eyes still red with tears. "What happened to you" Alex asked weakly chuckling. John glared at the doctor as he entered, and he quickly grabbed Alex's hand. He was much calmer than John was. Maybe he was in too much pain to take any more, John thought. But it didn't matter. It had spread to his lymph nodes, and he didn't have much time left.


	2. Smell of Death

The hospital reeked of illness and suffering. The cancer ward especially. They walked in the doors a few weeks after the diagnosis to find out the treatment plans, Alex already in a wheelchair to help minimize the pain. 

The oncologist met them in an exam room. Alex’s hands trembled as the doctor showed his the area where chemo treatments took place. The room had twelve chairs. Each sat right next to an IV stand. Eight chairs were filled that day, with men and women alike. A few looked closer to dead than alive.

They scheduled a surgery for two weeks later. He was to start chemo a few weeks after that. But deep down something screamed at John that thins were only going to get worse. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

John waited impatiently in the empty waiting room. Rain poured down outside, and the sky grew darker and darker. It felt like an eternity before the surgeon came down the hall to meet him. 

“I’ve spoken to the oncologist,” he started. “But it looks worse than we thought,” he sighed. “It’s pretty uncommon for a man his age to develops pancreatic cancer, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. And unfortunately, it looks like he started showing symptoms too late. Chemo might prolong his life, but I cannot guarantee you that he’ll make it another decade. The oncologist will explain it better than I can when he wakes up. I’m terribly sorry.”

He sat there, stunned. A boom of thunder echoed through the room, and he collapsed into the chair behind him, and bit the sleeve of his shirt to hide his sobs. He slowly walked down the halls towards the recovery room, the storm seemingly surrounding him. Alex was down at the other side of the room alone. John grabbed his unconscious hand. 

“I’m sorry I can’t promise it’ll be okay,” he muttered before breaking down on the sheets. 

Alex woke up during his breakdown. “I’m not dead yet,” he joked before rubbing the back of Johns head. He quickly sat up, reaching for his hand. Like clockwork, the oncologist walked down towards the bed.


End file.
